


Cadaver

by sickmorbid



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Character Death, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Wire Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-06-17 05:57:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15454848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sickmorbid/pseuds/sickmorbid
Summary: Sometimes his human companion would remark on his sadistic nature, ask him if he was designed to be an asshole.To tell the truth, Nines didn't know. And he didn't care.





	Cadaver

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: it's cursed

He grabbed a fistful of thirium tubes from the writhing figure beneath him, examining each one meticulously and turning them over in his palm, watching the blue blood pulse through them in short, erratic bursts, following the same pace as the pump that struggled to keep its host alive. 

He gave an experimental tug on a bundle of smaller tubes, LED flicking a hard red when his audio processors picked up on the sounds the broken android beneath him made. He searched his mental dictionary before he came up with a word that satisfied the criteria for them--moans, akin to human pleasure. 

The PL600 beneath him writhed in some mix of ecstasy and pain, mind palace unable to discern whether he should be disregarding the various warnings popping up on his HUD or to simply trust the voice that kept pressing him on, the voice he thought belonged to someone he trusted.   
“M-Markus…. do that again….. p-please….” Simon all but whimpered, wanting so desperately to reach out and grab his lovers face, to connect their skin so he could see him fisting his guts; his optical units had been critically damaged on the Stratford Tower, and he relied entirely on the soothing sounds of Markus’ emulated voice to guide him on. 

The RK900 unit above him obeyed, twisting the tubing around his finger and slowly tugging it toward himself, taking extra care not to pull anything completely out. Yet. 

“Only for you, Simon,” the imposter android growled against his sensitive little bundles. His LED flashed red again, body betraying his programming as he fought the overwhelming urge to just break the emulation there and rip his thirium pump out.

Nothing interested Nines as much as learning about his own special anatomy, especially when it came to learning about it from someone else's perspective. To see another android completely helpless and undone by his hands, life balanced on his soft fingertips, something he could drop and stomp on in an instance--it made him feel like a deviant. Even though he knew he wasn't one, could never be one. 

He was only supposed to interrogate them to get information, to learn about spreads in deviant strains and locations of possible leaders, but curiosity was always the devil. Sometimes his human companion would remark on his sadistic nature, ask him if he was designed to be an asshole. 

To tell the truth, Nines didn't know. And he didn't care. 

He dropped the tubes back into Simon’s chest, running his fingers along the inside of his chest cavity, fingers slick with hydrolic oil and little streams of thirium from the PL600’s previous injuries. “Do you trust me, Simon?” 

A soft murmur was all he was able to get out. He wanted to scream that yes, of course he trusted Markus, would let Markus do anything to him, but his weak state left him unable to do more than squirm and nod his head. He had the most beautiful wimpers, Nines thought. 

In a second, one hand was darting it's way to the android’s thirium pump and twisting at the core, sliding it out of place and quickly replacing it with his own two fingers, rubbing at the strangely wet slot and prodding at the plastic underneath. 

“F-fuck, M-Markus! God!” The PL600 all but cried underneath Nines, triggering some sort of… organic response from the superior model. 

Nines knew he was better than this model. In every way imaginable. He wouldn't be writhing from something as simple as fingers in his heart, wouldn't be be begging his false-lover for more. It made him feel strangely powerful, like the way he felt on the field. Watching the light fade out of someone's eyes, all because of him. 

The RK900 could feel the struggles of the tiny android pinned under him grow weaker and fainter as he approached imminent shutdown. His moans were tinny and laced with static; he was so fucked out he couldn't register that he was dying. How cute. 

With a final thrust of his fingers into Simon’s core, he hooked his fingers and with all the strength required, completely disconnected his regulator unit from his body, ripping major thirium tubes from his cavity as well and tossing them to the side. He couldn't quite match a word to the expression on the plastic corpse’s face. 

His LED slowly faded back to yellow and later flickered to blue as he stood up, pants and hands covered in foreign thirium. He grabbed the components he had flung away earlier and stuffed them back into the PL600’s body. 

Like a clinical dissection, he thought. Nothing more.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on Twitter @livelovesimon !


End file.
